to steel her resolution and to guide her unreluctant hand
in its deceitful work. When at last she stood back from the mirror to
survey and appraise the result, she dimpled with delight. It was
ravishing, no doubt about that! It supplied the only lack of which the
disclosure of sly old Skipper John had informed her. And she tossed
her dark head in a proper saucy fashion, and she touched a strand of
hair to deliberate disarray, and smoothed her apron; and then she
tripped into the kitchen to exercise the wiles of the little siren
that she had become.

"I've cast my everlastin' soul into the balance," poor Peggy accused
herself, "an' I don't care a whit!"

All this while Dickie Blue had occupied himself with more reasonable
reflection than he was accustomed to entertain. Doubt alarmed him.
Betrothed, was she? Well, she might be betrothed an she wanted to! Who
cared? Still an' all--well, she was young t' be wed, wasn't she? An'
she had no discretion in choice. Poor wee thing, she had given herself
t' some wastrel, no doubt! Charlie Rush! Ecod! Huh! 'Twas a poor match
for a dear maid like she t' make. An' Dickie Blue would miss her sadly
when she was wed away from his care an' affection. Affection? Ay; he
was wonderful fond o' the pallid wee thing. 'Twas a pity she had no
color--no blushes t' match an' assist the roguish loveliness o' the
big eyes that was forever near trappin' the heart of a man. Dang it,
she was fair anyhow! What was rosy cheeks, after all. They faded like
roses. Ah, she was a wonderful dear wee thing! 'Twas a melancholy
pity that she was t' be wed so young. Not yet seventeen! Mm-m--'twas
far too young. Dang it, Charlie Rush would be home afore long with the
means in his pocket for a weddin'! Dang it, they'd be wed when he
come! An' then pretty Peggy Lacey would no longer be----

When Peggy Lacey tripped into the kitchen, Dickie Blue was melancholy
with the fear that she was more dear than he had known.

"Peggy!" he gasped.

Then he succumbed utterly. She was radiant. Roses? They bloomed in her
round cheeks! Dear Lord, what full-blown flowers they were! Dickie
Blue went daft with love of Peggy Lacey. No caution now! A flame of
love and devotion! Splendor clothed the boy.

"What ails you?" said Peggy defiantly. "You is starin' at me most
rudely."

Dickie Blue's mounting love thrilled and troubled him with a
protective concern.

"You isn't ill, is you?" he demanded.

"Ill!" she scoffed. "I never